


Stray Heart

by fivehorizons



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Catlad, M/M, Porn With Plot, Tim is a flirt, plot heavy, save the batboys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivehorizons/pseuds/fivehorizons
Summary: Thrown out by his parents, cut off from everything, Tim is a nameless stray on the streets of Gotham. But like any good pet, with an adoption and some proper training from a cunning, seductive woman, he’ll don a mantle that will ensnare the city that left him behind, along with a couple of Bats.Catlad AU!





	1. Adoption

**Author's Note:**

> note: Tim was never a Robin, never involved with the Bat fam, and his related family is really shitty in this fic

The rain drummed against Tim’s skin like an unforgiving hammer, hitting hard enough to leave red marks along his ghostly pallor. The bruises already smeared like lost paint strokes—green and purple, black and blue—along his body throbbed with each impact. His clothes did little to protect him, all of it sodden and clinging to his hollow stomach and slender limbs. Underneath it all, he was shaking like some animal, his bones aching in the cold.

It was the biggest storm Gotham had seen all autumn, and of course tonight was when Tim’s parents finally decided to get rid of him—forever. The threats of doing it had reached a climax, and now Tim was out on the midnight streets of Gotham in the middle of a raging storm, wandering aimlessly. He was afraid of staying still for too long, both in fear of freezing to death and of who would discover him.

But it was as he continued his exhausted saunter down the back alleys that he was discovered.

There was a splash of something landing, louder than a raindrop but not by much. Luckily Tim’s ears were finetuned to any disruptive sounds. He had needed that back home in order to know when his dad had been drinking too much, his aggression searching for a target, oftentimes a human one.

 _No_ , Tim thought firmly, even as his bruises ached in memory of the hits that had left them there. Not home. He didn’t have a home. Not anymore.

He slowly turned towards the noise, shoulders bunched in anticipation, and found a woman blending into the dark. He could just barely make out her figure, but once it was there, it was hard to forget it. Every one of her angles, generous and sensuous, was apparent by her skintight outfit that did a lot better at holding out the rain than Tim’s soaking one.

But the outline of her body Tim found himself staring at most was her head. Namely, the cat ears that poked on top of it.

 _Catwoman_. He’d heard of her before. All of Gotham had.

It was an effort to hold back the fear roiling in his stomach and meet her stare. He was thankful her goggles lessened the intensity of it.

“Good evening,” he greeted, voice raw from screaming earlier.

“Aw,” she crooned, stepping closer to him. “The stray has some manners.”

“I’m not a stray,” he bit back.

She tilted her head up, eyeing him more closely. “Then what are you doing out on Gotham streets on a night like this?”

He clamped his jaw shut before he said something stupid. Like the truth.

When he kept quiet, she clicked her tongue. “Silent treatment, hmm. What happened to those manners?”

“What do you want?” Tim snapped coldly.

She was on him in an instant, hand clamped around his throat and slamming him up against the alley wall. His head snapped back, hitting the brick hard enough to cast stars over his vision, though the night was hooded by pitch clouds.

He blinked out the dizziness and forced himself to stare down Catwoman, let her know that he wasn’t something weak. _I’m not weak._

“That’s the kind of attitude I like,” she purred. “Resilient, lethal.” She scratched a claw down his jaw, too lightly to draw blood. “But still a beautiful creature.”

“Let me go,” Tim demanded.

She eyed the bruises that bloomed above her grip, too aged to be from her hand. “Where did you get these ugly bruises, little kitty?”

He growled at the question and the nickname attached to it. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Make me,” she baited.

He swung for her.

Once again, everything happened in a blur, each of her movements as fast and vicious as the pouring rain. He felt the punch in his side but never saw it, sensed his feet losing traction on the gravel but was unable to catch himself.

This time when his head hit a solid surface, it was the ground, and Catwoman was seated on top of him, clawed hand hovering over his beating heart.

She leaned over so her words whispered into the shell of his ear. “I can show you how to fight back—and win.”

He shivered.

“I can teach you tricks that will never let _anyone_ touch you again.” A grin. “Well, touch to hurt,” she added silkily. “I’m sure plenty of girls and boys would long to have you as a lover.”

He flushed, but she continued unabashedly. “A boy like you, I can turn you into a pretty little weapon, capable of protecting yourself from anything. A knife too sharp and wicked for anyone to play with.” She paused before lifting both hands to her head.

She took off the goggles.

Tim gaped up at her as she revealed her identity to him. But as soon as he got over the shock of that, he was blundering over what he was actually seeing.

She really was the most beautiful woman Tim had ever seen.

Her eyes glimmered, brighter than the streetlights, as she asked, “Do you want to learn?”

“Yes,” he breathed. He didn’t care how desperate he sounded.

He thought back to every insult he’d swallowed, every hit he’d tried to deflect, only to make it so much worse. He thought of how he couldn’t possibly be the only one. How there were probably hundreds, _thousands_ , of kids like him in Gotham, being hurt and hated just because they existed. 

 “ _Yes_.” This time when he spoke, there was an unbreakable will to it. The first bit of iron he’d need in order to forge himself into the perfect weapon Catwoman wanted to add to her utility belt.

“I was hoping that’d be the answer,” she said, before bringing down her goggles and lifting off of him. She helped him up and took his hand, thankfully with the claws retracted. “Come on, little kitty.”

Though he followed after her with no resistance, he asked, “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.” He could make out her blinding grin from where he trailed after her. “Consider this your adoption.”

Home. Adoption.

By Catwoman of all people.

Tim’s footsteps slowed, then stopped. Catwoman turned around to look at him, the smile gone, replaced by a concerned frown.

“You won’t…” he swallowed. “You won’t hurt me, right?”

He knew it was a stupid question. He knew she could lie, that so many people had lied to him before and he shouldn’t expect anything else. Maybe a dismissive comment or a seductive hum. Anything—except for what she actually did.

She engulfed him in a hug. “I won’t hurt you, little kitty.” Her words were back in his ear, but the sultry purr was erased. Now, it was warm yet raspy, like running a blade through honey. It made him strong but keenly aware of how fragile he was at the same time. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you anymore. I swear on my life.”

“That’s a big thing to swear on,” his whispered.

“I know.” She leaned back and ruffled his hair. “So don’t disappoint me, little kitty.”

“I won’t.” It was his promise back to her, and she took it with a satisfied nod.

“Come on,” she said, pulling off of him. “Let’s get you home so I can clean you off and get you warm.”

He was sure she’d used similar lines before to seduce targets, but now she said it like she meant it, softly and endearing.

She grabbed him around the waist, lifting him off his feet as if he weighed nothing, and yeah, he definitely wanted to learn her training regiment.

With her free hand, she lashed out with her whip, securing it on a ledge high above them. “I’m not leaving you in the wet and cold, little kitty.”

As she catapulted them into the dark and wet, battling the storm with her speed and agility, Tim realized he was starting to have less of a problem with the nickname.


	2. Stray

Tim learned a lot of things about Catwoman that night.

First: her name was Selina Kyle.

Second: her hideout was attached to a pet hospital she ran as a front.

Third: she had a thing for strays.

Selina petted one of what had to be twenty cats in her kitchen alone. It had a tawny coat and startling green eyes. She glanced to Tim like he was a simple afterthought. “You’re not allergic, are you?”

He shook his head, still marveling over all the cats. He had never been allowed to have a pet, though he’d always wanted one, whether it be a dog or a goldfish. The last time he’d asked for a pet, he had gotten a swollen lip that puckered out. His dad had made fun of him afterwards, saying he looked like a fish himself with his split and inflamed lips.

“Good,” she said, her almost-smile pulling him out of the horrible memories that threatened to replay in his mind over and over again. “That would’ve been a deal breaker.”

The same cat she petted leapt off the kitchen countertop and strolled towards Tim. It moved just like Selina, liquid and languid, but purposeful. Its claws tapped on the wood floor with an alluring beat that had Tim’s heart pounding in his chest.

It paused just in front of him, large eyes widening even more as it sized him up.

He slowly crouched down before offering out his hand for the cat to do with as it pleased. But all it did was stare. First at him, then his hand, then back up to his eyes. 

Just when he thought the cat would turn its back on him, it nuzzled its head into his palm with a soft _meow._ It seemed like an acceptance, and Tim returned it by stroking the cat’s silky fur.

Still at the kitchen counter, Selina asked, “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please.” He leaned up and started walking towards the counter. Following him step for step was the cat.

“What’s its name?” he asked, taking a seat across from where Selina stood.

“Cat.”

Tim scoffed. “I know what it is.”

“No,” she laughed. “That is _her_ name. Cat.”

Tim glanced down at the cat, her ears twitching at the sound of Selina calling her name.

He looked back at up at Selina, grinning smugly. “How original.”

“Sarcasm is sweet on your tongue, little kitty.”

“Tim,” he said. “My name is Tim.”

“Last name?”

He frowned, fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Fair enough. You can take up Kyle then.”

“Wait, wha—”

But then she seemed to just disappear from the room, the only proof that she was still in her massive hideout was the click of her heels.

He waited around for her to reappear, sipping on his coffee—how did she seem to know he liked it black?—and stroking the nearest cat’s fur.

She returned a couple minutes later, a stack of clothes in her hand with a red toothbrush lying on top.

“You’re lucky I’ve kept some clothes around that don’t belong to me. But don’t worry the toothbrush is unused.”

Tim wasn’t going to ask where the clothes came from, so he just took the stack from her hands with a quiet thanks.

He looked around the place. “Where should I change?”

“Here,” she ordered.

A blush crawled up his neck, coloring him in a gaudy shade of pink. “B-but—”

“Tim, dear,” she said carefully, “this is nothing to be afraid of. I have to assess you after all, see what elements I’m starting with and what I need to mold you into. Tomorrow your work begins, and I need to know where we need to start.”

“Okay,” he mumbled timidly. So few people had seen him naked before, and the reactions had him self-conscious as he peeled off his shirts, pants, and finally his underwear with a nod from Selina.

But she didn’t look at his body in disgust. She didn’t look at it hungrily either. She was simply looking, as if examining a complex imagine she was struggling to piece together and understand.

“Scrawny, too scrawny,” she noted. She stepped closer, pressing her ungloved hands along his body. No touch was too rough, too probing. Just exploring, learning, assessing.

“Still.” She reached his face, brushing the pad of her thumb along his cheekbones, following the sharp line that lead into his hair, still wet from the rain. “Very fine features. Lovely, delicate.”

“I’m not delicate,” he barked, recoiling.

She didn’t reach for him again, instead signaling for him to start changing. He listened, quickly pulling on the cotton shirt and sweatpants. No underwear could be provided, but he made do with what she’d given him.

“Right now you are,” she said as he folded over the waist of the too long sweatpants, “but I can change that. Still, it’s a nice façade to hold onto. Catch your opponent off guard.”

She pointed down the same hallway she’d reappeared from. “I don’t have a spare bed so you can sleep in mine tonight as long as you towel down your hair.”

“Don’t have guests often?” he joked.

“Oh, I do,” she hummed. “There’s just no need for another bed when it’s so easy to get men into my own.”

He choked, blushing a shade brighter. It was definitely going to take him some time to adjust from his last place to Selina’s. Back with his blood relatives, everything had been high-strung and uniform, professional and cold. Here, the place was mussed and chaotic and _alive_. Tim felt warmer in Selina’s hideout, more comfortable, but that didn’t mean he was ready to keep up with her sultry conversations after holding mundane small talk for all of his seventeen years.

Selina grinned at his reaction. “Get some rest, my little kitty. Your training starts bright and early tomorrow.”

\--

Tim dressed into the training clothes Selina had laid out for him in the middle of the night, expecting to punch something today.

He didn’t.

When Selina appeared in front of his door the same second he pulled over the tight, athletic long-sleeve, she immediately said, “And don’t start thinking you can go out swinging right off the bat. Today is strictly non-combatant, low physical demand.”

“What?” Tim exclaimed. Usually he couldn’t summon such an octave to his voice without coffee in his veins, but Selina had taken him off guard with their first interaction of the day.

“Your body is still recovering from your last fight,” she said, voice level and serious.

He liked how she called it a fight; like he had a chance in it.

“I can’t build you up when I’m working with debris. I’m not filling in the gaps of a broken structure.” Her eyes shone. “I’m building a new one out of you, the strongest one that Gotham has ever seen. And nothing will make you crumble again.”

His heart swelled at the words. A part of him wanted to argue with her— _I’m not broken—_ but the truth was…he was. He had been beaten and fractured and damaged for seventeen years, and if that hadn’t made a dent in him, then surely there was something wrong with him. There were a lot of places he needed to heal, to make stronger, if he wanted to make Selina proud, if he wanted to make himself into a young man capable of standing against anything.

“Okay,” he agreed, quieter than before. “But if we’re doing no contact, why am I wearing this?” He held up his arms, the fabric clinging tightly to him. It made him painfully aware of how much weight he’d lost leading up to his forced departure from his family’s home. His elbows looked sharp enough to cut.

Despite that all, Selina winked. “Because you look hot it in.” She turned back into the hall. “Let’s get training started.”

\--

Tim’s first training objective: watch Cat do nothing but be a cat.

“Wow,” Tim mocked, “she licked her paw. How interesting.”

“Snappy, snappy.” Selina sounded proud. “Just give her a minute to warm up.”

Tim turned his annoyance over to his source of entertainment—or the lack of it. “Take your time, Cat. I have nothing else to do today.”

Selina put her hands on her hips. “According to my regiment, you do, but carry on, insult a cat.”

Tim glared at Selina, then Cat who had plopped down, eyes trained on him.

“What?” he asked. He really was losing his patience, talking to a cat and everything.

When he’d woken up, he had been hoping for training that fit into action movies, sparring and bomb-making and shooting practice. The last thing he expected Selina to have on the agenda was watch over one of her many cats.

Just as he thought ripping his hair out for fun, Cat stood on all fours. There was a devious twinkle in her eye—or was Tim just that crazy?

“Catch her,” Selina whispered.

He craned his neck to look at her. “What?”

Instead of answering, she jutted her chin forward. Tim turned back to where he had been enduring a stare-off with a cat.

Who was now sprinting down a hallway, tail pointed high, reminding him of a middle finger.

“Catch her,” Selina repeated, and Tim vaulted forward, stumbling over his feet as he sprinted to chase after the cat.

The fucker was fast but not impossible to follow. He could always keep Cat in sight, but it was a minute into their chase when he got close enough to leap out and grab her.

He soared forward, arms reached out to cover the last inches he needed to take hold of her. His fingers were about to touch her tawny coat when she just _jumped_ , leaping perfectly upright. She landed as soon as Tim collapsed onto the floor, and then she was racing across his back, padding along his spine and hopping off to continue the pursuit in a new corridor.

“You…” he ended the threat to save his breath. He was already breathing hard though the game had just begun. Cat was quick and consistently so. She was also cunning, baiting him into corners, but whenever he launched out to grab her, she was gone.

They were in the living room, and Tim slammed into the back of the couch, arms held out to seize Cat, who had been trapezing along the couch’s top. But then she was scampering off, and he reeled from the impact.

Selina’s voice echoed in the room. “To catch a cat, you need to think like a cat, Tim. See how Cat moves, memorize her stride, get inside her mind.”

Tim found himself automatically obeying Selina without question. He was heaving out his breaths and sweating through the tight clothes. His blush could rival the one he got whenever Selina made one of her comments.

And it was all because the damn cat that could outmaneuver him.

Cat darted back into his sight, making an appearance on the kitchen counter. She stared at his coffee cup which he’d forgotten to take to the sink.

“Don’t you dare.”

She hit it off the counter. As the nice ceramic mug shattered against the wood floor, Tim hauled ass to grab her by her tail if matters came into it.

Gone again, leaping back to the floor and scampering away.

He took a steady breath. _Think like a cat_. Cunning, resourceful. _Move like one_. Languid, confident, controlled.

He let out a breath. _I am a cat._

This time when Tim pursued Cat, it was him who ordered their directions, though Cat never suspected it. Cat had the home turf advantage since he had only been at Selina’s hideout for the night, but he was picking up quickly on which hallways lead where and what rooms were meant for.

So when he fed her into a hallway that lead straight into the laundry room, he was sure he had her.

She scurried into the laundry room after hesitating—there was nowhere else for her to run, but that didn’t mean she could outdo him _again_.

He went with her into the cramped laundry room, where she found her way on top of the washing machine.

Before realizing what he was doing, he leaped onto the washing machine, joining her at the peak. She was shocked to find him on such equal ground so far above, and that was when he knew he had her.

She jumped off the washing machine.

Tim sprung forward, fingers curled like claws.

As he seized the cat around her middle—not really believing that it was fur around his fingers—he expected claws soaring for skin, teeth bared, but Cat went still, completely docile as soon as she was caught.

His momentum drove him over the edge of the washing machine, and he let himself fall, curling himself into a ball so Cat was tucked against his chest. When he hit the ground, he carried the speed into a spin that he sprung up from, ankles still a little sore from the action. He hobbled back over to Selina, Cat harmlessly snoozing in his arms. The fucker…

Selina threw her hands into the air. “You found her!”

“Yeah, _found_ ,” he muttered, handing over the cat to her owner.

But as soon as Selina had her in her arms, she dropped her, the cat landing in a perfect position before thudding off. Instead of petting Cat, Selina’s hand came up to Tim’s head.

“Good job.” Her fingers brushed through his hair. “You really are my little kitty.”

He bit his lip to hold back his smile. “What’s next?”

“A history lesson.”

He couldn’t hold back his reaction this time. He groaned.

“On all my friends and foes in Gotham,” Selina added sternly. “I can’t have you sleeping with the enemy.”

His brow furrowed. “Don’t you do that all the time?”

She nodded without a hint of shame. “Yes, but you need to learn how to properly seduce a man before you can get around to doing that. As you are now, you’ll embarrass yourself trying to lure a man into your bed, let alone get him to spill all his secrets.”

There was his blush again. “I—”

She pulled out her lesson, providing him with a powerpoint. “Let’s start with my friends. That list is very short.”

\--

One week of training turned into one month, and suddenly, faster than Tim could imagine, a year passed.

A year of grueling work and assembling calluses and gaining scars. A year of building the perfect body for Selina’s line of work—muscled, but slim; strong, but dainty—and practicing his skills of seduction from the queen of it. A year of forging himself to become Catwoman’s perfect weapon.

But, as Selina handed him a white box topped with a bow, he knew it had all been worth it.

“Is this…” he choked off but was urged on by Selina’s nod. He quickly opened the box, finding the contents inside.

It was an outfit. A skintight, black leather latex outfit, fit with its own cowl topped with cat ears and goggles.

“I took your measurements, so it’ll fit perfectly.” Meaning it would hug every curve that mattered, accentuate the hallmarks of Tim’s figure, slender and lethal, just like a blade.

“And it comes with a perfect name for you.” She curled his hands around his neck, hugging him into her. “Stray.”

He sighed. “Oh, thank God.”

“What?” It was rare that he saw her shocked, but her brows furrowed at his relief.

“I thought it would Little Kitty or something like that.” He paused, then smiled up at her. Grateful, warm. Honest. “I love it. Stray. The costume.”

“Good, because you’ll look sexy in it,” she growled.

No blush from him. Not anymore.

“No one can look as good in black latex leather as you,” he responded with a throaty voice, as if he was on the verge of moaning.

She purred in approval. “Such flattery, little kitty, and you’ll start winning my heart.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” he asked, fluttering his eyelashes.

“No. We both have men to enthrall and enamor.”

“And excavate for secrets.”

“My protégé. My flawless weapon.”

Standing in the mirror, Selina’s arms around him, her words of praise, the mantle he’d just been given…Tim couldn’t remember a time he had ever been happier.

“What’s our first mission together?” he asked before he devolved into tears.

When Selina smiled, it was predatory. Tim pitied whoever their targets were tonight. He also loved them for giving him a reason to whip out his claws with a year of training at his back, under Catwoman’s tutelage no less.

“There’s some new jewels in the Met,” she said slowly, savoring his anticipation. “A certain friend of mine will be expecting me. I hope having you there would throw him off enough for me to get the job done since he knows I work alone.”

“Is this friend of yours,” Tim asked, “tall, dark, handsome, and have a bat fetish.”

Selina burst out with a laugh that ended too soon. When Tim wasn’t trying to impress Selina, he was trying to make her laugh. She did that so rarely for someone who had given his life meaning.

“Who knows.” She drummed her gloved fingers over his heart, matching its racing beat. “Maybe you’ll have a birdie you want to catch too.”

Tim rolled his eyes. He knew all about Batman and his entourage. One of his final steps in proving himself of being ready to Selina was figuring out their identities, which wasn’t hard given the resources she had.

Batman. Bruce Wayne.

Nightwing. Dick Grayson.

Red Hood. Jason Todd.

Robin. Damian Wayne.

And those were just the guys. There was Stephanie Brown (Batgirl), Barbara Gordon (Oracle), among a few others. It was all a nice, happy family of young adoptees serving under Bruce as his expendable sidekicks.

One of his Robins had _died_ in line of duty, yet he kept filling in the position with other kids, as if he’d never learned his lesson. Lucky for him that specific Robin just didn’t know how to die and was back with a temper, making him the most amusing of the group in Tim’s opinion.

But the revived Robin, now known as Red Hood, was still a Bat. Whether he wanted to be or not, Tim had a secondhand hatred for them after Bruce had pushed Selina, the Selina who had saved him, cared for him, created him to be a better man, to the side like she was worth absolutely nothing, telling her that she wasn’t good enough for him, that he couldn’t compromise everything he built for the feelings he had for her regardless how strong they were.

If that was a sign of how Bruce raised his kids, Tim was ready to give them absolute _hell_.

He brought the red-tinted goggles over his face, trying not to think about the life-changing moment just over a year ago when Selina had taken hers off for him.

“Let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we got the batboys swinging in next chapter ;)

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this the week before I went back for my second semester of college. I have chapter 2 completed (unedited), but I don't know if I'll be able to update frequently due to my hellish schedule. Maybe if you leave some comments/kudos I can hurry up ;). Thanks for reading regardless!


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